My Favourite Day of the Week
by Just LeakyCauldron
Summary: Why is Thursday Harry's favourite day of the week? Translation of German story "Lieblingswochentag". Contains Slash, Lime DH


Written by: _JustLeakyCauldron_

German beta by: _SissiAndrea_

Translated by: _Thiuri_

English beta by: _Sera_

**Thanks** to all these people, especially Thiuri, for supporting me. And I would also like to thank _LiaTonks_ who made the translation of some of my stories possible.

**Disclaimer**: All characters, names, etc. are owned by J. K. Rowling. I don't earn any money with this fanfiction.

**Please review!** I think Thiuri should get something (immaterial) for her work.

Greetings, LeakyC

oOo

**_My Favourite Day of the Week_**

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It's a normal Thursday in April. We have afternoon-lessons, Herbology with the Slytherins.

Professor Sprout has just asked, what a „Flora Fwuuper" is. Well, good question, but I bet, Hermione knows.

„Yes, Miss Granger? " (Professor, you should think about a new request?)

Mione smiles, clears her throat and starts immediately to recite her text: "The "Flora Fwuuper" is very similar to the bird of the same name. It has exceptional light colours, like yellow and orange for example. If the flowers move, it seems as if it turns and one can be hypnotised by looking at it too long."

„Very good, Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor! "

The same for years. Also now: appearance Draco. I watch him, how his look travels from Professor Sprout to Hermione and how he would like best to stab her with his eyes.

Amused at this ever returning scene I let my look rest on the sweet Slytherin, until he realises. It works every time. When Draco looks at me then, his expression softens automatically. That's my weekly amount of butterflies in my tummy.

Sometimes I even smile at him a bit. Draco himself dares extremely rare. He is coward, depending on that. Otherwise he seems to be perfect.

**o**

Four hours later and at some completely different place:

I'm under the shower washing sweat and dust off my body.

Quidditch-practice had been marvellous. Draco and his team turned up _accidentally_. We, the team captains, snapped a bit at each other, mounted our brooms and, up in the highest regions of the Quidditch pitch, grinned at each other again and again. He did his practice, I did mine, and finally we returned to our changing rooms nearly simultaneously.

My team is already gone and I am waiting for his signal, telling me that only Draco is left in the Slytherin changing rooms. Waiting can make you very edgy, if you're looking forward to something – or someone.

I leave the shower, dry and dress myself unhurriedly. Draco's team is terribly slow after practice…

Suddenly, the signal parchment shoots through the gap under the door.

Astonished, but full of anticipation, I pick it up and take my stuff before I sneak privately into the Slytherin changing rooms. Although I can trust the sign, I'm very careful and look around thoroughly. If somebody caught me here, I would have to answer too many unpleasant questions.

Relieved I see that only Draco's clothes are left on the bench. His broom's leaning next to them, the latest one, as usual.

I go there, smiling, and grab his shirt. I adore his scent and every time I can hardly resist walking off with one of his garments.

Dreamily, I sniff at the cloth, as suddenly a sharp voice behind me hisses: „Potter, what are you doing? "

I flinch and my heart literally sinks into my pants. "God, Draco!"

He embraces me from behind and cuddles up. "Every time you flinch again." I can hear the laughter in his voice.

„I hate you for that," I say earnestly.

Draco loosens his embrace and kisses me softly. "Well, as long as you love everything else…" he finally answers cheekily.

He always wants to have the last word! Well, okay, today he may win. I put his shirt over his shoulders and stroke back one strand of hair which is still dripping wet. "I do."

His smile is enchanting, when he is happy. But then, suddenly, his eyes are questioning. "Why are you dressing me?"

„If I undress you, it isn't right, either," I reply.

„No, but today it is," he grins and pulls me on the bench, where his clothes are lying.

Well, this may not be a normal Thursday. It ends like this or like that. I don't mind, as long as I can have my sweetie regularly. Draco is my drug. I ask myself more often now, how I have survived the first years in Hogwarts without him.

I still know exactly how everything started:

One day he stood in front of me – he got hold of me after Quidditch practice – was stammering something, blushed and said he was sorry for pushing me off my broom during practice. As a result I have been – so much in love – convinced that this boy was irresistible. He must have had similar thoughts about me; because we didn't leave each other rest in peace anymore. Until we finally kissed each other for the first time on October 31st at 10:53 pm behind a curtain in the Great Hall.

I wonder why I still know that. Maybe it is because Draco still likes to laugh himself silly about it from time to time.

If I remember correctly, that day was a Thursday as well…

Meanwhile, I can count the Thursdays until graduation. It hurts, but I use to suppress it. I don't have to spoil the little time I have with him. And who knows – you shouldn't give up hope – maybe we have a chance….

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**_-the end-_**

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